


Just Like the Ones I Used to Know

by Python07



Series: A Fixed Point [8]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dreams, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, based off ep Last Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:59:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6955687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara wasn't the only one the dream crabs found through the Doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like the Ones I Used to Know

He blinked and found himself in the outer office at UNIT HQ. He looked around for a moment, disoriented. There was a throbbing in the side of his head. “How did I…” he muttered to himself.

“Good morning, Brigadier.”

Alistair stared at the short, round woman. “Mrs. P.” 

She had long gray hair in a ponytail and deep laugh lines around her eyes and mouth. Her posture was slightly stooped. Her smile didn’t falter. She had the same accent as everyone from back home and never bothered to try and change it. “It’s Christmas, lad, and I’ve known you since you were a wean. Ye can call me Kathleen.”

Alistair smiled back. “Happy Christmas, Kathleen.”

Kathleen trailed him into the inner office. “We’ve finished decorating the rec hall for the party.” She nodded towards the window overlooking the grounds. “And we even have snow to go with it.”

Alistair stopped to look out at the snow covered trees. It was a peaceful sight, tranquil. The pain in his head was less, but not gone. “Aye. It doesnae look like it’s gonna stop any time soon.”

Kathleen set a cup on tea on the desk for him. She took the chair on the other side of the desk. “What do ye want for Christmas?”

Alistair chuckled and went to sit down. “How about no alien incursions.”

Kathleen grinned. “They wouldnae dare.” 

Alistair took a bottle of paracetamol out of his desk. He downed two of the pills with the perfect tea. “How about the Doctor being less of an insufferable prat?”

Kathleen clicked her tongue between her teeth. “Just say the word and I’ll have a chat with him.” 

Alistair dropped the bottle back into the drawer. He smirked at her. “It’s a holiday. I will nae sic you on him, old girl.”

Kathleen glared at him. “Less of the old, lad. Anything else?”

“Da!” a little girl squealed.

Alistair’s smile lit up his entire face. “Her.” He stood up and rounded the desk only for a six year old blur to attach itself to his leg. He picked his daughter up. “How are you, my Kate?”

“Great,” Kate chirped and threw her arms around his desk. She kissed his cheek. “Happy Christmas, Da.”

Alistair perched on the front edge of the desk next to Kathleen. He kissed her forehead and her cheeks. “Happy Christmas.”

Kathleen stood. She peered at Kate mock sternly. “And have ye been a good girl this year?”

Kate grinned. One of her front teeth was missing. She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Kathleen winked at Alistair and gently poked Kate in the side. “I wonder if Father Christmas will agree. Shall we go ask him?”

//Alistair.//

The voice was soft, but insistent. Alistair looked around, but there was no one else in the room. Kathleen and Kate didn’t appear to have heard it.

Kate squealed. “Can I, Da?”

//Alistair.//

Alistair let her down. “Of course.”

Kathleen held out her hand to Kate. “Ye coming?” Kathleen asked Alistair.

Alistair looked around again. “I’ll be along in a moment.”

//Alistair.//

The voice was much quieter this time. It was barely an echo. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he had a funny feeling in his stomach.

He absently rubbed at his temple. He glanced down at his desk. On top of his ever-present pile of paperwork was a single white sheet with large words written in black marker: Question Everything.

“Question everything,” he repeated to himself but the words didn’t make sense. He shook his head as if to clear it. He blinked and he was standing in the doorway to the rec room. 

There was a large tree dominating one corner. There were lights and garlands everywhere. A long table covered with food sat along one wall. Christmas carols played in the background.

And the place was full, full of his men and their families. Santa Claus held court next to the tree and kids were lined up to sit on his lap.

“Sir.”

Alistair blinked and the man was in front of him. “Yes, Corporal Palmer.”

Palmer was in his mid-twenties. He had a baby face and he used to remind Alistair of a boy playing soldier. “I just wanted to say thank you for the party, Sir.” There was a boy standing in front of him with the same blonde hair. He patted the lad’s shoulders. “And my boy Jamie wanted to meet you.”

Alistair smiled at the solemn-faced boy. “Nice to meet you, young Mr. Palmer.”

Jamie saluted but didn’t speak. He didn’t smile.

Alistair returned the salute. “That was very smart.”

The next thing he knew, someone was wrapping him in a bear hug from behind and lifting him clear off the ground. He squirmed. “There’s only one wanker who would dare. Get off me, Benny.”

The was a booming laugh. “Happy Christmas, Striker.”

Alistair turned as soon as the big man released him. He punched Benny’s shoulder. “Happy Christmas. What are you doing here? I thought you were…”

Benny was a mountain of a man, barrel-chested. His uniform was sloppy, as always. He waved an arm. “I’ve been here and there.”

“Happy Christmas,” a frustrated voice interrupted. “Now, piss off.”

Alistair jerked around to face the Doctor, but it wasn’t the Doctor from his time. It was the one he just saw at his cabin. “How can you be here?”

The Doctor grabbed Alistair’s arm. “You’re not here either.”

“This isn’t real,” another familiar voice added.

Alistair didn’t react for a moment when his Doctor latched onto his other arm. He swallowed. “Both of you. Not again. I can’t deal with more than one.”

Three sniffed and regarded his other self disdainfully. “If you can believe I turned into that. I look like a magician.”

Twelve rolled his eyes. “I was lucky anyone could take me seriously in that frilly shirt.”

Alistair interrupted before Three could reply. “Doctors, what is going on?”

“What is going on is this is a dream,” Twelve answered quickly. “There’s--”

Three jumped in to explain. “There’s an alien organism attached to your face. It’s created this dream state to keep you happily occupied while it eats your brain.”

Alistair had no patience for the way they were glaring at each other like children. He pulled away from the both of them and took a couple steps away. He kept his back to them. “That’s ridiculous.”

Twelve circled to Alistair’s front. He stepped close and pressed a finger to the side of Alistair’s head. He kept his voice low. “You have a pain right here, like a brain freeze from too much ice cream.”

Three was close to Alistair’s back. “That’s where it’s burrowed in.”

Alistair shook his head. “No. It’s too fantastic.”

“That’s it you two,” a voice said briskly. “Give the man some air.”

Twelve glared at Santa Claus but stepped back. He pointed at him. “I’m keeping an eye on you.”

Santa Claus just grinned and held his hands up.

Three looked at Santa Claus and then to his other self. “Is it really…”

Twelve threw Santa Claus another dirty look but nodded. “As far as I can tell.”

Santa Claus shooed the two Doctors away before he turned his attention back to Alistair. He smiled kindly. “Hello, Alistair.”

Alistair sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “You have to be taking a piss.”

Santa Claus chuckled. “Such language from the proper Brigadier.” He glanced over his shoulder at the two Doctors. He chuckled again. “Okay, maybe not so proper. I like it.”

Alistair arched an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that you’re really Santa Claus?”

Santa Claus made a show of taking a small, thick book out of his pocket. He flipped through the pages. “Let’s see here. Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart.” He clicked his tongue between his teeth. “You were a bit of a wild one, made the naughty list in 1938.” He paused and one end of his mouth quirked up. “You hardly ever asked for anything for yourself. It was always little brother and sister.”

Alistair felt the flush creeping up the back of his neck. “All right,” he said gruffly. “Maybe you are Santa Claus.”

Santa Claus put the book away. He put an arm around Alistair’s shoulders. “They’re right. This is a dream.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and nodded in the direction of the Doctors. “For all their brains, they haven’t figured out the best way to prove it to you.”

“What do you mean?” they asked together, equally offended.

Santa Claus ignored them. “Alistair, look around with me.”

Alistair let Santa Claus turn him in a circle. He saw Kathleen and Kate. He saw Palmer and his boy. He saw Benny.

“I know she was your first secretary when you were promoted and you’ve known her forever, but were you surprised to see Kathleen?” Santa Claus asked kindly.

Alistair had to think on that for a moment. “Yes,” he finally answered. “Because…” he trailed off.

“I know. And what about Palmer? There’s a reason you don’t think of him as a boy playing soldier anymore. It’s the same reason you’ve never seen Jamie smile so it couldn’t be replicated.”

Alistair swallowed past the lump in his throat. “And Benny…we joined up together…first time anyone ever died in my arms.” He let out a shuddering breath. “Far away from home.”

“You got his body home.” Santa Claus leaned in close to Alistair’s ear. “Everyone here besides us, besides wee Kate, is someone that you’ve lost. And you’re afraid of losing her too. You won’t. Believe me.”

Twelve strode up to them and crowded their personal space. He pointedly ignored Santa Claus and turned his full attention on Alistair. “You have to wake up now, while you still can.”

Three joined them. “Alistair, they’re not really here. They’re phantoms. I need you to wake up.”

“How?” Alistair whispered.

Santa Claus grinned widely and winked at Twelve. “That’s easy.” He snapped his fingers. “Wakey. Wakey.”

Alistair shot up into a sitting position. He was gasping for breath. He looked down at the floor beside his bed in time to see the dream crab disintegrate into ash. “Bloody hell.”

He threw the covers off and got out of bed. The cold floor sent a mild jolt through his system. He went to the bathroom. He leaned on the sink and splashed some cold water in his face. He washed his mouth out before he studied his haggard reflection. “Did that just happen?”

Suddenly, the door to his quarters flew out. The Doctor, his first Doctor, rushed into the bedroom. “Alistair.”

Alistair leaned against the doorframe. “Here, Doctor. Please tell me there aren’t any more of those things.”

The Doctor rushed up to him. “No. It’s all been taken care of.” He made a sour face. “My other self sent me a message how to get rid of them.”

Alistair nodded and blew out a long breath. “Good.” He ran a hand through his hair. “That was…” He didn’t have time to finish the sentence before the Doctor cupped his face and kissed him. He grabbed the Doctor’s shoulders and kissed back.

A new memory rippled through the Doctor’s timeline and Twelve smiled.


End file.
